UNCLAIMED

The first time Lena Vale stepped into Dominic Blackwood’s world, it smelled like bleach and money. The marble floors of Blackwood Tower gleamed too brightly, reflecting the city skyline like a lie polished to perfection. Everything here was white, silver, and glass—cold enough to make her bones ache even through her coat. Lena paused just inside the revolving doors, fingers tightening around the strap of her worn leather bag. She didn’t belong here. And Dominic Blackwood knew it. He always knew. “Ms. Vale,” a voice said, smooth and clipped. She turned to find a woman in a charcoal suit, tablet tucked against her chest, eyes sharp and assessing. No warmth. No curiosity. Just calculation. “I’m Evelyn Hart. Mr. Blackwood is expecting you.” Lena almost laughed. Expecting was a generous word. Summoned felt more accurate. They moved through security silent guards, biometric scanners, eyes that lingered a second too long on Lena’s boots, her frayed cuffs, the faint scar along her jaw. She could feel the judgment rolling off the walls. By the time they reached the private elevator, Lena’s pulse had settled into a steady, dangerous calm. She had learned long ago that fear was a luxury for people with options. The elevator doors slid shut. Soft classical music hummed overhead, absurdly gentle for a place built on ruthless acquisitions and hostile takeovers. “What floor?” Lena asked. Evelyn’s lips twitched. “The top.” Of course. The ascent felt endless. Lena’s reflection stared back at her from the mirrored walls, dark hair pulled into a low knot, eyes too sharp for her age, mouth set in a line that said she’d stopped asking for mercy a long time ago. She thought of her father’s hands shaking the last time she’d seen him. The blood on the warehouse floor. The contract stamped with the Blackwood crest. Dominic Blackwood didn’t just own the city. He owned its ghosts. The elevator chimed. The doors opened onto silence. The top floor wasn’t an office. It was a fortress masquerading as elegance floor-to-ceiling windows, steel beams exposed like bones, furniture arranged with surgical precision. No clutter. No personal effects. Nothing that suggested comfort. At the far end of the room, a man stood with his back to them, looking out over the city as if it were something he’d already conquered and grown bored of. Evelyn gestured. “He’ll see you now.” And then she was gone. The doors whispered shut behind Lena, sealing her in. Dominic Blackwood didn’t turn around right away. He let the silence stretch, heavy and deliberate. Lena counted her breaths, refusing to fidget, refusing to give him the satisfaction. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, controlled, dangerously calm. “You’re late.” “No,” Lena replied. “I’m exactly on time. You just like making people wait.” He turned then. Dominic Blackwood was taller than she expected. Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, dressed in a black suit that looked less like fashion and more like armor. His face was sharply cut, handsome in a way that felt intentional, engineered. But it was his eyes that froze her in place, steel-gray, unreadable, and far too familiar. She had seen those eyes in courtrooms. In boardrooms. In nightmares. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, gaze raking over her with clinical precision. “This meeting is a courtesy, not a negotiation.” “Funny,” Lena shot back. “I was thinking the same about your takeover of Vale Industries.” A flicker of something crossed his face. Not surprise. Interest. “Your father’s company was bankrupt.” “You strangled its credit lines.” “Business,” he said flatly. She stepped closer, heart hammering now, unable to stop herself. “You didn’t just ruin him. You destroyed everything he built. And now he’s missing.” That got his attention. Dominic’s jaw tightened. “Careful.” “Or what?” Lena challenged. “You’ll buy the police too?” Silence slammed down between them. For a moment, she thought he might throw her out. Instead, he walked toward her slowly, deliberately, each step measured. He stopped so close she could smell his cologne, something dark and expensive, layered over the faint scent of antiseptic. “Your father stole from me,” Dominic said quietly. “A lot of money. Then he ran.” “That’s a lie.” “Is it?” He tilted his head. “Because if I wanted him dead, Ms. Vale, you wouldn’t be standing here accusing me.” Her breath caught despite herself. Dominic reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim folder, dropping it onto the table between them. It slid to a stop at her fingertips. Inside were photographs. Her father. Bruised. Alive. Her chest constricted painfully. “You want him back,” Dominic said. “You’ll work for me.” Lena looked up, fury and terror warring inside her. “And if I refuse?” His gaze softened just enough to be terrifying. “Then you’ll learn how deep this city can bury people.” The city glittered outside the windows, indifferent and vast. Lena Vale had walked into a billionaire’s empire looking for answers. She was about to become his most dangerous weakness.